Under the Bluebell Tree

There are several things I do know about my nocturnal comings and goings.
I dream in vivid color, for one thing.
Not just fundamental colors either.
My synapses and neurotransmitters treat me to a 4th of July palette of incredible and wondrous things.
My dreams are intensely complex, symbolically speaking, and I have yet to
understand what they truly mean.
I have also been known to get out of bed at 3:47AM to write down many a
soon-to-be elusive thought.
For the past ten years or so,
I have yet to have a dream that included both my mother and father.
It’s always been one or the other.
Given the circumstances surrounding the past chaotic decade,
that makes some logical sense, I guess.
As I said, my dreams have had ‘Ginny’ some nights and ‘Wally’ on the others.
Never together.
Until last night . . .

Off in the gossamer covered distance I could see them standing together,
holding hands . . .  smiling . . .  still.
They were underneath a tree of great age that was surrounded by what looked like
thousands of these tiny purple flowers.
I was physically moved (somehow) closer and I immediately noticed that they both looked happy,
healthy and totally at peace.
My mother was wearing a royal blue, knee length coat.
My father, a crisp white shirt and grey pleated trousers.
I smiled at the sight of the two of them, so obviously happy together and said,

“What are all these flowers?”

My mother smiled and said,

“They’re bluebells, Michael.  Each flower is a dream of ours that somehow came true.
No more sad, just more good.”

She turned (in slow motion) and kissed my father on the cheek.

They stood underneath the bluebell tree as small white flowers began falling like an unexpected springtime snowstorm.
They faded into the distance, transforming themselves into a Monet-like watercolour.
I faded into my dreamworld distance as well.

Before I went to bed last night, I had never heard of a flower called a ‘bluebell’.
I found it quite appropriate that the beautiful flower is not quite blue but purple – a color closely associated with Alzheimer’s Disease.
Thinking back on the dream I found it odd that my father never said a word,
though he appeared to be quite content.
Maybe the serenity I saw in his bright eyes told me all I needed to know.
I feel that their hearts have healed after all these godforsaken years apart.
Although mine is still on the mend,
I now believe that there are better days ahead for them
and for me . . .

*a little something from the wonders of the internet regarding ‘bluebells’

“Bluebells have long been symbolic of humility and gratitude. They are associated with constancy, gratitude and everlasting love. Bluebells are also closely linked to the realm of fairies and are sometimes referred to as “fairy thimbles.” To call fairies to a convention, the bluebells would be rung.

Bluebells are widely known as harebells in Scotland.
The name originated due to the hares that frequented the fields covered with harebells.
Some sources claim that witches turned themselves into hares to hide among the flowers.
Another name for bluebells is Dead Man’s bells.
This is due to the fact that fairies were believed to cast spells on those who dare to pick or damage the beautiful, delicate flowers. The people of Scotland are fond enough of the flower to continue this tradition
in the hopes of protecting the little flower.”

M

9 thoughts on “Under the Bluebell Tree

  1. funny thing how the mind works….sometimes it is just trying to find resolution, sometimes it is a balm-like peace poured over hurts.

    ‘balm-like peace’ . . .
    I really like that.
    Thanks, KLC
    ~m

  2. Very vivid dream Michael. I am not sure what the last decade has brought you with regards to your parents but I think I am going through a similar process.
    I find the retelling of your dream to be very calming and reassuring.


    That you found this calming and reassuring is simply wonderful in my eyes.
    That you found your way here is kinda cool too.
    Wander through the blog archives and you will see what the past ten years
    has brought this way.
    Some of it is heartbreaking but some is insightful and just wonderful.
    Remember our Senior yearbook picture? :laugh:
    That was a ‘money’ picture.
    Nice to hear from you, Jules.
    ~m

  3. While these types of dreams always bring a sense of happiness and resolution for me – it always comes at a cost of sadness. Almost wishing I could dream this dream a little longer and not have to wake to face reality.

    I know what you mean Michael. These dreams will definitely help the healing.

    The fact that my Mom and Dad never said goodbye (because of the disease) makes a
    dream like this almost magical.
    As far as helping the healing process, it’s already ongoing.
    ~m

  4. “I immediately noticed that they both looked happy, healthy and totally at peace”
    As sad as you may be that they are gone, this one line tells me your heart is healing, because peace and health is all you ever wanted for them.
    It’s amazing the things sleep can do for us…


    Healing is definitely happening.
    I can feel it in my bones . . . and heart.
    ~m

  5. It would be easy to assume you once heard of bluebells and just don’t remember. (I recall a childhood rhyme, “bluebells, cockleshells …”)
    But their symbolism, woven into your dream … intriguing how the mind works.

    Forgot about the ‘bluebells & cockleshells’ . . .
    And yeah, the mind?
    Get your brain-freak on . . .
    ~m

  6. Both together again, happy and at peace. The mind is a wonderful thing. As time goes by you will remember the good and the past decade will fade away. To have such lovely dreams which you remember is wonderful. The only one I ever remember is when I get bitten in two by a Great White, and as I wake I just slide out of bed and go to the loo. Same dream every time.
    Burnie :tongue: Go figure.

    Love that dream, bud.
    Here’s to hoping I never have it! LOL
    Thanks, man
    M

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